


The Academy of Television Arts and Sciences Can Suck It

by smithereen



Category: Disney RPF, Jonas Brothers
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-30 20:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19410769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithereen/pseuds/smithereen
Summary: Joe gives a little attention to people who are not Nick. Nick will not stand for this.





	The Academy of Television Arts and Sciences Can Suck It

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ in July 2009

Nick blew his line for the third time, and he could feel his frustration getting so huge inside him that there was no way he was going to be able to force the words past it, not the way they were supposed to come out. The director knew it too, told everyone to take fifteen; and Nick felt like such an idiot. Like he was holding up the production, and he was costing everyone money, all because he couldn't figure out how to say some stupid words he'd had perfectly memorized for days. He took his clenched fists into the deserted school hallway set they weren't using today, and sat down on the ground, hunched over and trying to let it go enough to get this thing _done_.  
  
It was just- He hated how hard it was.   
  
Not that music was _easy_ exactly. But music was something he just _got_. He'd always gotten it. And maybe he'd always taken that for granted a little, that it was right there just about every time he reached for it. Acting was just not- He knew he wasn't good at it, was the thing. He felt like he was making a fool of himself. Like no matter how hard he tried, it wouldn't click. Like the harder he tried, the farther away it got.  
  
Joe sat down next to him, nudged Nick with his elbow. "I blew like a billion takes yesterday," he said. "Remember they kept having to reset that confetti?" Joe's hand came down on the back of Nick's neck. "It's no big deal."  
  
Nick nodded miserably.  
  
"Hey," Joe said. "Really. You're doing awesome. I was talking to the editors, and everyone agreed that your face is the best face." He pressed his fingers into Nick's cheek. "I mean not counting my face obviously." Nick shook him off, leaning back against the fake lockers in their fake school. He could see what Joe was trying to do, but it was just- It almost made things worse. Because Joe didn't _know_. Joe was good at this. Even Kevin had awesome timing, pulled off every silly stunt they asked him to do like a total pro. Nick was the only one not getting it.  
  
Of all the things Nick hated in the world, the thing he hated the most was not being good enough. He didn't let it happen often; but sometimes, like now, there was no way around it.   
  
When he looked over at Joe, Joe crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, touching the tip of his nose with it. Nick snorted. Joe leaned over, hugging Nick tight and close, trying to lick his ear. Nick squirmed, punching out, connecting hard with Joe's ribs. Joe grunted, wincing and lunging forward to grab Nick by the wrist. He twisted Nick's fist into his belly, holding on when Nick tried to jerk it free. He kept waggling his tongue everywhere, chin knocking into the side of Nick's head when Nick flailed.   
  
"Come on," Joe said. "I want to taste your face. I need to see if it tastes as grumpy as it looks."   
  
"Joe," Nick said, his voice going high-pitched as Joe licked wet and sloppy against the bottom of his chin. "That's so gross." But he was laughing really kind of hard, sagging helplessly sideways under Joe's lean into him. Joe snuggled his face into the side of Nick's head for a second before he finally let go.   
  
"You're worse than Elvis," Nick said, swiping at his chin with the back of his hand.  
  
Joe licked his lips, his eyes squinted closed like he was trying to figure out what he was tasting. "Needs less cranky," he said. "And more pepper."  
  
Nick pretended to be pissed off. Not that Joe believed it for a second; not that Nick expected him to.   
  
He really wasn't very good at acting.   
  
*  
  
Joe propped his crossed arms on the back of the sofa and peered over Nick's shoulder at the guitar Nick had settled in his lap, at the sheet music he had spread out over the coffee table. "Anything good?" he said.   
  
"Working on it." Nick tilted his head back and slanted his eyes over to look at Joe. "Are they pushing up our call time?"  
  
"Nah." Joe ruffled his hand through Nick's curls, fingers grazing Nick's scalp. "They're still trying to get the lighting thing fixed. Dave and I are gonna," he broke into rap, "shoot some b-ball outside of the school." He shoved Nick with his bent elbow. "Wanna come?"  
  
Nick looked down at the notes of the song that were sitting snarled and jammed up on the paper beside his knee. He did kind of want to come. He wanted a win to take the sting out of another day of feeling like a complete loser who didn't know what the heck he was doing on set. Basketball would be a lot easier than trying to untangle this stupid song. But he felt like maybe he'd started to get a handle on it, the melody teasing just close enough to right to make him want to pick at it. And- His gaze slid past Joe's grin, to David Henrie in the doorway with a basketball propped on his hip. David smiled, bounced the ball on the floor a couple times.   
  
David didn't like Nick. Not that he was an asshole about it or anything, not that he'd ever said anything like that to Nick's face. But Nick wasn't an idiot. He could tell when someone thought he was a d-bag, even if they were being kind of quiet about it. Whatever. It wasn't like Nick held it against him. Nick got it. He'd dated Selena. He'd broken up with Selena. David hadn't really forgiven him for either of those things. Nick looked back down at his guitar, his hand gliding absently over the strings. He was pretty sure if he just changed the key… "That's okay," he said. "I should really try to-" He motioned at the mess around him.   
  
Joe shot a grin over at David. "Knows he would lose."   
  
David laughed. "Do you smell chicken?"  
  
"I do believe that's slow roasted chicken," Joe agreed.   
  
Nick snorted like they were so immature, like he couldn't even believe they thought he wouldn't be able to see right through that. Like it hadn't kind of worked. A little. He stubbornly plucked out a couple chords on his guitar. He was not that easy. They could have their stupid one-on-one, and their stupid TV shows and their stupid natural comedic timing, because Nick was going to sit here and write a number one hit. Joe laughed, poking at Nick's head and grabbing at him while Nick batted his hands away.   
  
"All I smell is moron," Nick said.  
  
"All I smell is loser," Joe taunted. He grinned at Nick. "Come on, I'll let you have a four point handicap." Nick pushed him away, his hand wide against the side of Joe's head.  
  
"Stop bugging me," he said. "Some of us are busy. Doing _important_ things." When Joe leaned over Nick's back, Nick barely noticed. He was already noodling around with the chord progression, too focused on making the pieces fit to feel it when Joe touched the top of Nick’s head with his chin in benediction.  
  
*  
  
Nick tapped his pencil against the table to the bassline of _Raspberry Beret_. His gaze slid right off the bit in his history textbook that was trying to tell him about the Napoleonic War, slid all the way over to the window. Nick frowned out at the lot where Joe and David were kicking a soccer ball back and forth between them instead of being trapped inside with the diploma-less. Sometimes being the youngest was really lame. He tapped his pencil against his knee, tensing up when David slipped the ball right between Joe's legs. Joe's mouth opened in a laugh as he darted after the ball, his hair flopping into his eyes. Joe dribbled the ball back toward David, passing it between his feet. Nick tried to telepathically order Joe to take it to David's left. David was weaker on the left. But Joe started doing some kind of conga or something instead, sending the ball wildly off the side of one of the buildings.   
  
"Nick," the teacher said patiently.  
  
"Huh?" She motioned at the pencil he was tapping against his desk. Drumming against his desk actually. Kind of loudly. Everyone was looking at him. He cleared his throat and put the pencil down, smoothing his hand over the open pages of his book. "Sorry."   
  
Demi nudged Nick with her pencil, and he looked over. She made an exaggerated pouty lip, and motioned with her head at the window, mouthed the word, "Lucky." He mouthed the word "Jerks" back at her, and she nodded wrinkling up her nose. Nick smiled at her, and tried to give Napoleon another chance. He really tried, honestly, but it wasn't his fault Napoleon was so incredibly boring.   
  
Joe and David were jostling into each other, their legs tangling for the ball. Joe managed to hip-check the ball away, shoving David off balance, and Nick was pretty sure that was a foul. David grabbed at the back of Joe's shirt and yanked, stopping him in his tracks, his whole body jerking. Okay, that was definitely a foul. Joe's mouth moved, and David broke into a laugh darting in close and dropping down into a crouch. He waved his hands around in front of Joe's face like he was trying to block a basketball pass. Joe picked up the soccer ball and tossed it at the basket way over at the end of the lot. It rattled from one side of the rim to the other, before plopping through.   
  
Joe froze, completely shocked for a second, before his fists flew up over his head. He spun around, and he was yelling. Nick didn't have to hear him to tell. David smacked him a double five, and the two of them leapt up, chests thumping together. Nick laughed silently, ducking his head down into his open book to hide it. Joe crooked his elbow over David's neck and jumped up, the two of them colliding all over each other. He said something that made David bend with laughter, his hands clenching, his knee coming up off the ground. Nick echoed Joe's grin, even if he couldn’t hear the joke. Joe put his hands on David's shoulders, and they were close enough to Nick's window now that Nick could see Joe squeezing. Joe leaned up behind David to say something, his smiling mouth moving right beside David's ear. David's lips twisted up into a smirky smile, an inside jokey secret smile.   
  
Nick felt a little twinge of something mean, the grin sliding off his lips. All of a sudden, Nick wished he could read lips. Nick looked down at his book. All of a sudden Napoleon seemed really interesting.  
  
*  
  
"Wanna run some lines?" Joe asked, flopping down on Nick's bed with his script.  
  
Nick looked up from his guitar. Of all the things he did not want to run, lines were at the very top of the list. Running lines was like reminding himself over and over that he just couldn't get it _right_. "I'm working, Joe."   
  
Joe rolled over onto his stomach, his body pressed against Nick's side. "This is work too." Joe nudged at his script with his nose, pushing it toward Nick, wiggling along the bedspread. He propped his chin on his fist and started reading stage directions in his nasally nerd voice.   
  
Nick made a skeptical face. "I mean _real_ work."  
  
Joe trailed off into silence. He flipped a page of his script. Nick went back to playing his guitar, the strings familiar under his fingers, the notes clear and easy and comfortable in his mind. Nick was halfway through the bridge on this new song he was working on for the album when Joe rolled heavily into him, kicking at his crossed ankles.  
  
"Come on," Joe said. "We're not recording for months. We have to shoot this scene tomorrow."  
  
"I already have it memorized," Nick said.  
  
"There's more to it than just that."   
  
"I know that," Nick said defensively. "But we might as well wait for the rehearsal." In the beginning he'd tried going over the lines again and again, tried to go at it like training himself to throw a ball, tried to force himself to somehow _get it_. It had only ended up making him worse, tangling him up on the set, the words losing all meaning, falling out of his mouth more clunky and wooden than before. His hands tightened on his guitar as he carefully didn't think about the exact number of takes he'd blown yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that.  
  
"It can't hurt to work on it," Joe said. "I was talking to David-" Nick frowned at the angry little stab in his gut. "And he had some ideas about how we can really get the timing down."   
  
Joe's eyes were all lit up. He usually got that kind of excited about stepping onstage during the tour, or a huge crowd showing up for them at Times Square, or sometimes pancakes. Nick looked uncertainly at the script Joe was flipping through. Joe had been talking about acting forever, saying it was something he wanted to do. But Nick had always thought that was for later. So much later it hadn't ever seemed like something real, like marriage or college or whatever. The future. Even when they'd done _Camp Rock_. Even when they'd signed up for this stupid show. This was just kids' stuff. Not really acting for real. He hadn't thought Joe would be so-   
  
"You're so lucky you get to wear the tiger suit," Joe said wistfully.  
  
"Yeah," Nick said. "It's always been a dream of mine." Joe laughed at the sarcasm, and Nick could tell he didn't really get how much Nick hated the tiger suit. How much he hated the fact that it seemed like not a day went by lately without him getting something slimy and disgusting dumped on him. Hated that the entire purpose of this entire show seemed to be to make him look like an idiot. He hated the long waits and the lights and hitting his mark. He hated having people fussing around with hair and make-up and outfits, poking and prodding and touching him all day long. But most of all he hated the fact that this was the thing lighting Joe up like a followspot. Because Nick couldn't love it. He just couldn't. And Joe did. Joe followed the lighting guys around, and bugged the camera guys to let him try out the dolly, and spent extra time looking at the dailies even though he didn't have to.   
  
Nick plucked at his guitar, and looked over at Joe out of the corner of his eyes. "Help me with this new song?" he said. He strummed the first couple chords hopefully.   
  
"Is it for the show?" Joe asked, squirming around to get comfortable. " _Pizza Girl Part Two?_ "  
  
Nick wrinkled up his nose. "Please never remind me that song exists."  
  
Joe grinned and finally settled in with his body turned toward Nick, and his elbow bent to prop up his head. "It's an instant classic. Some of your best work."  
  
Nick shoved him hard, tipping him over onto his back. He laughed when Joe grabbed his hand and yanked him down half on top of Joe. "Careful of the guitar!" Nick protested, trying to keep it from getting squashed between them. Joe pulled it from him and started to clumsily almost play _Pizza Girl_ , singing at the top of his lungs. Nick punched him in the side.   
  
Joe stretched to lay the guitar down on the floor beside the bed and shouted, "Release the hostages!" He rolled over onto Nick, wrapping him up tight in his arms and singing right into his ear.  
  
_"Now I eat pizza every daaaaay!"_  
  
Nick squirmed weakly, kicking with his legs. "The next song I write is going to be called _Joe is Stupid_ ," he said. "Just so you know. It's going to be the first single off our new album."  
  
"Sounds like a hit." Joe strummed his fist across Nick's belly like Nick was his guitar. He twisted Nick's earlobe like he was tuning him up.   
  
"Joe," Nick complained, his face hot.  
  
Joe patted him roughly on the side of his face and let him go. Nick squirmed away because he always squirmed away as soon as Joe let him, but back on his side of the bed he felt kind of- Alone. He kept his eyes on the ceiling when he reached out with his hand and grabbed Joe's arm. Nick finally looked over, and Joe had his eyebrows quirked up curiously, a little half smile on his face.   
  
Nick opened his mouth. It felt like there were a bunch of words waiting there on his lips, but the ones that came out were, "Hand me my guitar?" Joe pulled out from underneath Nick's hand, leaned down to pick the guitar up off the floor. Nick sat up, settled the guitar in his lap, took a couple breaths to steady himself. "Be serious, okay?" Nick said. "This is important."  
  
Joe's lips twisted in a little, like he was eating his frown. He flopped back against Nick's pillows and touched two fingers to each of his temples. "Serious musical genius mode engaged. And go!"  
  
Nick looked up from his guitar, watched Joe when he started humming the chorus. His thumbs tapped against his knees, and he bobbed his head like he was just barely holding himself back from dancing. Joe changed the lyrics a little when they got to the chorus, snapping his fingers twice and giving Nick a smug nod when the rhyme fell easier, sounded smoother. Nick nodded. "Better," he agreed. He smiled at the way Joe's eyes lit up, bright. Just as bright as they did when he was talking about filters or camera angles or how to keep your arms loose when you were doing a pratfall. Just about.  
  
*  
  
Nick grimaced as the hair girl sprayed him in the face with something that smelled a little like Lysol. He was pretty sure it wasn't actually Lysol. He coughed, squinting his eyes back open just in time to notice Joe was exactly half a second from crashing into him.   
  
"Sneak attack!" Joe yelled.   
  
Nick braced himself to keep them both from tumbling sideways into the wall. It was a limited success. Nick's elbow smacked into the wall as they both staggered, and he bit his lip to keep from yelping. "That's great, Joe." He rubbed the aching tingle out of his elbow with his other hand. "Thanks for almost bashing my head in."  
  
"You're welcome," Joe said cheerfully. He rubbed Nick's elbow too, his chin resting in the crook of Nick's neck until Nick noticed the hair girl was laughing at them. Nick shook him off, flushing a little. "Wanna come with me to watch some dailies?" Joe asked.  
  
"Seriously?" Nick said. "We've been here since like 5 o'clock in the morning!"   
  
Joe laughed a little, nudging at Nick with his knees, kicking at his feet. "Do you have any idea how many times you wake me up in the middle of the night playing your guitar?"   
  
"That's different," Nick said.  
  
Joe kicked Nick again, his sneaker scuffing over the top of Nick's boot. "Because it's music?"   
  
"Yeah," Nick said. "That's-" Joe looked up, a quick darting look that make Nick somehow feel like a dick even though he hadn't _done_ anything. "I mean, we're musicians. This other stuff is just-" He shrugged defensively. "Other stuff."  
  
"I know, but-" Joe was tapping the toe of his sneaker against the side of Nick's shoe. Not really kicking anymore, just bouncing his foot off Nick's with solid little thumps.  
  
"At the end of the day, it's the band. Right?" Nick said. He wished he didn't feel so anxious and twisted up inside, waiting for Joe to answer. It was an obvious question. It wasn't even really a question. There was no reason for his whole body to tighten up like a guitar string about to snap.  
  
There was no reason, but he still felt himself go loose and relieved when Joe said, "Yeah." He grabbed Nick's wrist and hauled him in close, his arm wrapping around Nick's shoulder, his head touching hard against the side of Nick's head. "It's always the band."   
  
Nick smiled.   
  
"But I'm still gonna stay." Joe shrugged, his arm moving against Nick's shoulder. "You know- To see the dailies?"  
  
Nick knew it was stupid to be like- He didn't even know what. Angry or something. It was hot like anger, but his stomach churned like he was about to sing a song he didn't know the words to in front of 50,000 people. It was so stupid. He didn't need Joe to be with him all the time. He didn't care if Joe did stuff without him. But he felt prickly and sharp, like he'd just lost a softball game or fallen down in front of people. He felt like if someone brushed against him too hard he might come apart. "What's the point of even looking at them?" Nick grumbled. "We were there when we shot all that footage. It _just_ happened." He shoved Joe off him, took a step away. "It wasn't even fun the first time."  
  
"Maybe I enjoy seeing how much the camera loves me." Joe surged forward, his arms circling around Nick's arms, pinning his biceps to his ribs. He jerked Nick back and forth inside the tight squeeze. Two of the PAs were watching them. "But not as much as you love me, right?"  
  
Nick tried to breathe through how tight his skin felt, how hard his heart was pounding against the back of his eye, how it felt like it would help to yell. He pulled at Joe's octopus arms. If he could just get some room to _breathe_. "Can you _stop_?" He pulled hard, harder than he normally bothered to pull when Joe did stuff like this. "Why do you have to be so-" His voice felt way too loud in his throat, as he said, "Embarrassing!"  
  
Joe let him go, his arms falling heavy to his sides. "Watching dailies helps you see what it's like from the other side of the camera," Joe said quietly. "So you can be better."  
  
"Because we all know I need to be better," Nick said bitterly, all the sharp anger, fear swollen up in him not quite enough to keep him from feeling a stab of shame.  
  
"I didn't mean _you_ you," Joe said carefully. "I meant everyone you. I meant me. I'm the one that's going to watch them." He reached out tentatively, touched his finger to Nick's elbow. "Nick." Nick twitched him off.   
  
"I'm leaving," Nick snapped. "Stay if you want."   
  
Joe didn't come with him.  
  
*  
  
"You got home late," Nick said, testing the waters cautiously the next morning when they were rushing out the door to make their call time. Most of the time Joe didn't hold a grudge. That was, if he was being honest, more Nick's style. Nick didn't let a lot of things go. That was why all Nick's shoes were actual pairs, and he hadn't had to replace his phone charger once, and he'd made it all the way through Europe without losing his toothbrush. It was also why sometimes he went over and over a conversation or a performance or a day that could have gone better until it was so worn only the bad parts showed through. Joe didn't hold on to much. Anger, shoes, or phone chargers included. Sometimes Nick thought that made him incredibly irresponsible. Sometimes Nick thought that made him lucky.  
  
"Yeah, I'm about to fall asleep right here," Joe said. He gulped down half a Pop-tart, chewing with his mouth open. He didn't sound mad.   
  
Nick thought about just dropping it, but he wasn't very good at that either. Once he got started. "You missed dinner."  
  
"I ran into David at the studio," Joe said. "His cousin owns this kickass restaurant by the beach."   
  
"Oh." Nick's jaw clenched. "Cool."  
  
Joe smiled at him. He didn't look mad. Nick smiled back with his mouth pinched tight, wondering why exactly he still felt like if he wasn't careful he was going to knock over something breakable. "About before." Nick pitched his voice low to keep Kevin from overhearing on the other side of the car. "I'm sorry I was so-" He frowned. "It wasn't about-" Nick tilted his head. This was not going very well. Maybe he needed to apologize more, practice a little or something. "I was just taking it out on you."   
  
"It's okay."   
  
"It's just-" Nick tried again, wanting Joe to understand. "I got frustrated and-"  
  
"Nick," Joe interrupted. "It's okay." He reached over and patted Nick on the shoulder twice, not even squeezing at him or pulling Nick halfway into his lap or anything. "Really." Nick stared at him. He didn't look mad. Joe caught him staring and tipped his banana in Nick's direction. "Want half?" he said.   
  
"No, that's-" Nick shook his head. "I'm not hungry."   
  
Nick was pretty sure he was mad.  
  
*  
  
Nick was having a bad day. But not the way he'd been having a bad day pretty much every day since they started working on the show. Like a really, really bad day. Somehow all his pants for the stunt today were fitted wrong. And he jammed his toe so hard coming down the poles he thought maybe it was broken. Okay, so it probably wasn't broken. But it had hurt a lot. And there was another dumb article about him and Miley Cyrus all over the Internet. And all the makeup girls had made a huge gigantic deal about the zit he was getting, like he was giving birth to a unicorn from his forehead instead of just having like, a normal teenaged moment that every other teenager got to have without a bunch of people acting like it was a personal failure on his part that his skin wasn't perfect _all_ the time. He didn't need help with that, thanks. It already felt kind of like a personal failure.   
  
Plus there was some problem with the new classroom set, and they'd been sitting around for _hours_. Nick was not used to downtime. Nick was used to waking up in a different city every day, putting on a show every night. Nick was used to recording on the road, and interviews, TV, radio, magazines, fittings, photo shoots, and signing off on like a million different details for a million different projects. Nick was used to being busy all day every day.   
  
Shooting a TV show was like suddenly going into slo-mo. Their mom kept saying how nice it was to be in one place all together, to relax, like a vacation. It wasn't that Nick didn't like vacations. It was just that he liked for them to be a couple days long, a week maybe, not a whole bunch of months strung together. He'd been getting a lot of writing done, trying to stay busy, trying to stay _focused_ but it was just- It felt like there was a lot of time wasting going on that was all, a lot of waiting, and a lot of delays.   
  
He tossed a wiffle ball into the net target on the other side of the room as hard as he could. The solid thwap didn't seem as satisfying when there was no one to see him hit it right in the center, when Joe wasn't there to do "Hey, batter, batter" chants even when no one was batting.   
  
"Want to toss the wiffle ball around?" he asked Kevin. Kevin looked up from the giant cheese cube igloo he was making over at the Craft Services table. He was touching _all the cheese cubes_. Nick grimaced. "That's really unsanitary."  
  
Kevin laughed. "Would you rather I was wearing gloves and a hairnet?"  
  
"I would rather you just eat the ones you want."   
  
"It's a replica of the stage for our world tour," Kevin said with a flourish of his hands over the cheese stack. "I was thinking we could make it rotate. And like platforms-" He put some pieces of bread over on one side of the igloo, and he was so _excited_. It made Nick want to roll his eyes on principle.  
  
Nick looked doubtfully at the cheese cubes. It still looked like an igloo. "You're wasting food," Nick said. He couldn't seem to stop his voice from coming out really, really snotty. Like he could tell it was totally obnoxious, but it just kept coming out like that.   
  
"Maybe you should check your levels," Kevin said mildly. It was so annoying how every time Nick wasn't completely pleasant, people assumed his levels were off.  
  
"They're fine," Nick said shortly. He didn't tell Kevin he'd kind of had that thought himself after he almost bit the wardrobe guy's head off over his stupid too tight pants. But it wasn't his levels. His levels were totally fine.   
  
Kevin raised an eyebrow. "Didn't get your 2 o' clock hug today?" he said with exaggerated sympathy.  
  
"What are you even talking about?" Sometimes Nick felt like playing the dumb version of himself on the show rubbed off on Kevin a little bit.  
  
"Joe's off somewhere," Kevin said. Joe was playing basketball with David out on the lot. They had an actual basketball this time. When Nick looked it had seemed like they were playing some kind of full contact version of HORSE. "And you're here." Joe hadn't invited him. Kevin ate one of his cheese cubes. "What are you guys fighting about?" Okay, so sometimes Kevin wasn't dumb at all. That usually only happened when it was incredibly inconvenient for Nick.  
  
"We're not fighting," he muttered. They weren't really. And what was he supposed to say, I think Joe's mad. I can tell because he stopped being all clingy and embarrassing just like I asked him to? Or maybe, I think Joe loves acting more than he loves me? Yeah, that didn't sound pathetic at all.   
  
"Okay," Kevin said easily. He started building a little baby igloo next to the big igloo. Stage-loo. Whatever it was.  
  
Nick frowned, perversely annoyed by the fact that Kevin wasn't pushing. He added a cheese cube to the top of Kevin's igloo.   
  
Joe spilled through the door looking like makeup was going to throw a fit over his sweaty face and wardrobe was going to give him another lecture about not getting grass stains on his costumes. "We're going in twenty," he said. "They want to do some touch ups." He grabbed a handful of mini quiches and crammed his mouth full. "What's this?" he asked through the food, nodding at Kevin's igloo village.  
  
"It's our new stage," Nick said. "Except the real one won't be edible." He turned to Kevin. "I'm assuming."  
  
"It's not to scale," Kevin said, ducking his head modestly.  
  
"It's _cheese_ ," Joe said.  
  
"I'm just playing around with some ideas," Kevin said defensively.  
  
"It's going to spin," Nick offered.  
  
Joe cocked his head, squinting his eyes at the stacked cubes. "Cool," he finally said like pronouncing a verdict. Kevin smiled so hard it looked like it hurt. "Bring it in," Joe said, holding his arms out to Kevin. Kevin laughed, sidled over to let Joe pull him into a hug. If he had a tail it would've been wagging. He thumped Joe on the back a couple times. One of Joe's arms was draped high across his shoulders, and one a little lower on his back. His lower hand was tucked in tight against Kevin's ribs, squeezing quick and then letting go. His chin touched against Kevin's shoulder a little as he drew back. Nick looked away when Joe glanced over at him, looked down at their new stage made of cheese. He swallowed rough past the tightness in his throat.   
  
*  
  
Nick wandered around the sound stage until he found Kevin telling stories about Italy to a bunch of extras and PAs. They were the same stories Kevin told on the talk shows. He told them every time like it was the first time with his hands flailing and his eyes wide.   
  
"Anybody seen-" Nick started.   
  
"He's over on B-6," one of the PAs said. The Wizards set. It seemed like Joe was over there a lot lately. With David. It seemed like even when he wasn't over there, he was all "David says we should map out the beats of this scene" and "David thinks we should-" and "David told me-" Like David was Tom Hanks or something instead of some kid pretending to do magic on a kids' show.  
  
"Aren't we almost ready to go again?" Nick said.  
  
"Probably fifteen minutes," the PA confirmed.   
  
"I'll get him," Nick said.  
  
"He has a walkie." The PA lifted hers, and flicked at the button. "Want me to-"  
  
"No, I'll just-" Nick waved her off. "I don't mind."   
  
He could hear laughing from the hallway as he headed toward David's dressing room. He pushed open the door without knocking. Joe and David were on David's couch, their heads close together, bent over David's guitar. David was playing something Nick didn't recognize. Their heads popped up in synch, their laughter quieting. David's guitar trailed off into silence. It felt like someone had hit pause, like he was interrupting something private. Nick's whole face heated up, his gut twisting up with anxious hurt.  
  
"Hey, hey. It's Nick J," David said. He strummed out the _Jaws_ theme.   
  
Nick stammered, hating that it was a little hard to breathe like he'd been socked in the gut, hating that it felt like he only had half a working brain, hating that he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding it. "I was just-" He motioned behind him vaguely.   
  
"Check it out," Joe said. He smiled wide and open and like he didn't know Nick's heart was pounding so hard he thought he might actually pass out. "David's doing this song for Wizards. We're, uh-" He looked at David, his lips twisting into a half smile. "Improving it." He started to sing something about big wands, David backing him up on the guitar. None of the lyrics really registered. Nothing really registered. Nick watched blankly as David's fingers pressed against the guitar strings. He was pretty decent. Nick was pretty sure he was better. Joe leaned over, draping an arm loosely across David's shoulder and nodding into the beat, singing. They both suddenly broke into matching silly, wide grins over one of the lyrics Nick hadn't been listening to. Bursts of laughter broke apart the melody in Joe's mouth, shook David's hands off the guitar.   
  
Nick didn't get it.  
  
"Classic," Joe said, still laughing. "You need to put out a bootleg soundtrack, Weird Al style!"  
  
David grinned over at Nick like he expected Nick to know what the heck they were talking about. Or no. Like he knew Nick wouldn't know what the heck they were talking about, and he thought that was even funnier. God, Nick really wanted to punch him right in his stupid face.  
  
"They need us on set," Nick said through clenched teeth.  
  
Joe looked up from where he was trying to trap David's hand on the neck of the guitar. "Okay, okay," he said. "But just listen to this one," he said. "This is legit." He nodded at David. "Play the one about the paper airplane."  
  
David smiled a little, his hands working over the strings, not really playing anything, just riffing. But he was pretty decent. "I don't know, man. I feel embarrassed dragging out my stuff in front of the hitmaker over here." He jerked his chin in Nick's direction.  
  
"Come on," Joe said. "You know it's awesome."  
  
David shook his head warily.  
  
"I'll play it." Joe made a grab for the guitar.  
  
"You'll play it?" David said skeptically.  
  
"I can play the guitar," Joe said. He looked at Nick for confirmation.  
  
"He can play," Nick said even though Joe was- Not that good. But there was no way Nick was siding with _David_.   
  
"This I gotta see." David let the guitar go, and Joe curled over it, his lips thinning in concentration as he pulled out the melody a little clumsily. He leaned over and nudged David with his shoulder. David nudged him back, their elbows tangling. "Sing it, dude." He started to sing to give David a kick start, and he was playing _David's_ song and he was singing _David's_ song. David joined in and Joe was singing with him, and Nick could barely hear them over how loud the hot anger pounded against his temples in a rhythm that sounded like "mineminemine."   
  
David tried to snatch the guitar back from Joe. "You're butchering it, dude!" Joe turned his back, still strumming, still forcing out a lyric here and there through his laughter as David climbed half on top of him to reach past the blocking elbow Joe was throwing out.  
  
"Joe," Nick said when he couldn't stand it anymore. He could barely open his mouth to let the words out. "We really have to go."  
  
"Okay, but I'm not finished with the-"  
  
" _Now_ , Joe."   
  
"Uh oh," David said. "I think your dad is getting upset, dude." He lifted his eyebrows at Nick, flashing a cocky little smile. "Don’t wanna end up grounded."  
  
Nick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that’s-" He was pretty sure he'd think of a really spectacular comeback later tonight. Why couldn't he just have it now when he needed it? "A good one," Nick finally muttered sarcastically, giving up. David's smile got cockier, and he looked like he might be about to say something else.   
  
"Don't poke the bear," Joe said. He handed the guitar back to David, grabbed David by the nape of the neck and pulled him in for a tight hug. Nick's fists clenched at his sides. David thumped Joe on the back with his palm wide.   
  
"Don't forget what I told you about the-"  
  
"Yeah," Joe said, darting a look at Nick. He pulled back from the hug, David's fist bumping lightly against the center of his chest a couple times. "I'll let you know."   
  
"Later." Their hands smacked together, sliding apart with a snap of fingers.  
  
Nick moved close as he could to Joe when he stood up. He didn't care if Joe was still mad at him, didn't want to be around him. Joe would forgive him eventually. This was like an advance on whenever Joe stopped being mad because Nick couldn't wait. It was really, really important for David to see that Joe was _his_. Right now. He crooked his elbow over Joe's neck, pulling him in against Nick's side. Joe stumbled a little, looked over at Nick, surprised. Nick nudged into him with his shoulder, his fingers curling down a little over Joe's collarbone. Joe smiled at him, a soft small smile that rested gentle on his lips for a second before it spread into a grin. Joe clapped him on the chest and said "Come on, dad."   
  
Nick laughed hard, made sure David was looking before he dragged Joe out the door.  
  
*  
  
"You're coming with me and Dave tomorrow, right?" Joe said. "Day off! Fun in the sun!" He banked an imaginary putt off Nick's foot.   
  
Nick nodded grimly. He was looking forward to it about as much as he looked forward to getting asked questions about their purity rings, but there was no way he was turning down Joe's invitation. He was too relieved to have been invited at all. And besides, he wasn't about to let Joe spend any more time alone with David than he had to. What if David taught him more of his songs or something?  
  
"You don't have to come," Joe said, dropping his imaginary putter. "If you're busy. Working or whatever."  
  
Nick forced a smile. "No." He reached over and grabbed a handful of Joe's shirt, jerked him in closer. Joe swayed forward, his eyes half-lidded, a lazy smile on his face. "I want to come."  
  
Joe looked down at Nick's fist, reached up to cover it with his own hand. He squeezed Nick's hand once, and then tugged at Nick's collar until Nick stumbled forward. Nick closed his eyes, smiled into Joe's shoulder when Joe wrapped him up in a tight one-armed hug.   
  
*  
  
So apparently when David and Joe had said they wanted to play golf, what they actually meant was mostly that they were going to race around in the carts like crazy people. Nick tightened his grip on the seat underneath him as Joe took a curve so sharply it almost tossed Nick out the side of the cart. David tore up beside them, gaining on them, and Joe swerved straight at him. When Nick cautiously opened his eyes, he was surprised to find they weren't sitting in the middle of a smoking pile of golf cart parts.  
  
"This is bad," Nick said. "This is so bad."  
  
"Relax, Nick." Joe reached over and grabbed Nick's knee. "I'm an awesome driver."  
  
"We're going to end up in the lake," Nick said. "I just have this feeling."  
  
"None of that negative thinking."  
  
"Can you just slow down?" Nick reached over for the wheel, and Joe smacked his hand away. "A little?"  
  
"Okay," Joe said, easing off the gas. "But he's going to-" Nick watched David surge past them. "-beat us." Joe raised his eyebrows at Nick. Nick frowned hard at the back of David's cart.   
  
"Floor it," he said, his voice resigned.   
  
Joe whooped as he mashed on the gas. They shot forward, and Nick couldn't help waving at David as they passed him again, the cart's engine starting to whine in protest. David pushed it harder, coming up beside them and edging them off the path. As soon as they hit the grass, everything went a little bit crazy, and they started to hurtle down the hill. Nick was putting handprints in the dash, watching the lake get closer and closer as they sped like the cart didn't have any brakes.   
  
"Joe!" was all Nick managed to blurt. He tore his eyes away from their fast approaching doom, thinking about how they were going to explain this to their dad when the club called to tell him his sons were idiots. Maybe they were going to get banned. Maybe they'd have to move. Joe was grinning at him, his eyes too bright, and his smile wide open with his tongue showing. He spun the wheel, sending them tipping over onto two wheels. Nick lunged for Joe's side of the cart to balance them, and the two of them both tumbled out the other side. The cart went on a little ways without them before bumping very gently into a tree and stopping. Joe was laughing underneath Nick, his whole body shaking. Nick looked at the ducks that were waddling over to investigate their abandoned cart, at the mud that was coating his arm, at Joe's eyes crinkled up in the corners. Nick figured he had two choices here. He could throw a serious shit-fit, or he could laugh.  
  
Nick laughed.  
  
"We're not in the lake," Joe said.  
  
"Technically," Nick said sourly. It didn't have quite the effect he was hoping for since he was still grinning. He extended his muddy hand and hauled Joe up. "Oh, look, you got a little dirty," Nick said. "Let me get that for you." He deliberately wiped his muddy hands all over Joe's mostly clean shirt, catching Joe's arm where he'd rolled up his sleeve, dirtying up the curve of his neck where his shirt dipped down into a V. Joe just stood there, looking at him, letting Nick ruin his shirt. Not laughing anymore, but smiling like he was so pleased to be getting mud all over him, like it was the best thing that had ever happened.   
  
"Thanks," Joe said. He reached over and cupped Nick's face gently in his hand, swiped at Nick's mud spattered cheek with his thumb. He wiped his muddied fingers on his own shirt when he was done. Nick scrubbed at his face with his sleeve to catch anything Joe'd missed.  
  
David skidded to a stop next to them. He was shaking his head. "You guys are crazy!"  
  
"You're the one who ran us off the road, path-thing!" Joe said.  
  
"That was kind of dangerous of me," David agreed. "I think I owe you guys dinner."  
  
"No, we don't need-" Nick started.  
  
"Awesome!" Joe said. He held out his hand for David to slap him five. "I'm starving."  
  
"We can't go out with you looking like that." Nick flailed at Joe's shirt.   
  
"This is a Nick J original," Joe said. "I can wear this anywhere."  
  
Nick shook his head helplessly.   
  
"We can drop you off at home if you want," Joe offered. "If it's too embarrassing." His lips twisted.   
  
Nick flushed, his jaw clenching down hard on his gum. He grabbed for Joe's arm, tugged him over to their cart. "We'll meet you back at the clubhouse," he said over his shoulder to David.   
  
"If you're not there in ten minutes I'll have them drag the lake," David said cheerfully as he swung back into his cart.  
  
"I'm driving." Nick hooked his hand in Joe's belt, dragging him backward as he tried to climb into the driver's seat.   
  
"Don't you trust me?" Joe said. Nick shoved him over into the back seat, his hands rough on Joe's hips. Nick settled himself in the front, and Joe leaned forward, wrapped his arms around Nick's waist, pulled him backwards in his seat. "You need a seat belt."   
  
"Oh, _now_ you're interested in my safety?"   
  
"I'd never hurt you." Joe's thumb dug inside the waistband of Nick's shorts, hot against the edge of Nick's hip, rubbing back and forth against his skin. Nick turned and looked at him. "On purpose," he corrected himself. The look on his face was so serious, Nick couldn't laugh the way he wanted to at first.  
  
"I know," he said instead. He started the cart, reaching back behind him to pat at Joe's head. Joe dug his fingers in harder around Nick's hip.  
  
*  
  
So apparently when David and Joe had said they were going to dinner, what they actually meant was they were going to grab something from In-N-Out burger and then hit this club David liked. There were so many reasons why this was a terrible, terrible idea starting with alcohol, paparazzi taking pictures of them around a bunch of people drinking alcohol, and the fact that even if Nick had a fake ID, which he didn't, the entire world seemed to be keeping very close tabs on his age. Which was too young for this club.   
  
But David knew the bouncer, and before Nick even had time to think "Cover of Us Weekly" they were inside. Not that being inside was that much better.   
  
"You guys want something to drink?" David shouted over the music. "I know the bartender, so don't worry about ID."  
  
Nick waited to hear what Joe said, tried to make his face as blank as possible, even though he couldn't help shifting his weight uneasily from side to side. If Joe was drinking-   
  
"We'll just have Diet Cokes," Joe said. He draped his arm over Nick's shoulder. "Okay?" Nick nodded, a huge knot of tension loosening up in his chest. David headed for the bar, and Nick reached up, grabbed a handful of Joe's shirt right at the nape of his neck. Joe smiled at him. "Don't worry," he said. "David's not going to get drunk or anything. He never has more than a couple beers." Nick's lips tightened up as he realized this wasn't the first time Joe and David had done this together. He turned his head into Joe's ear, his nose brushing the sweaty warm skin of Joe's neck.  
  
"You guys come here a lot?"  
  
"A couple times."  
  
Nick pulled back so he could see Joe better. "Is that really a good idea?"   
  
"They can't decide everything for us," Joe said, tugging Nick back in, his voice raised loud to Nick's ear. Nick felt- Too young for this. He felt like a dumb tag-along little brother, which he pretty much never felt around Joe even if Joe was three years older. They'd basically gotten their driver's licenses at the same time. Their first kisses hadn't even been that far apart. Yeah, Joe had his diploma, but Nick had never really felt like Joe was ahead of him before. Like he was closer to being an adult or something. "It's just dancing," Joe said.   
  
Nick nodded dumbly. A couple of girls jostled into him on their way to the bar, beer spilling out onto his arm. He flinched.   
  
Joe tucked his hand into Nick's back pocket, his palm wide and hot on Nick's butt through his shorts. Nick looked at him, startled. He used his hand to steer Nick in tighter against his side, pressing. "Stay close, okay?" He didn't take his hand out of Nick's pocket. That was weird, right? Sometimes Nick couldn't really tell until he saw how other people were looking at them. But it seemed like it was probably weird. Nick thought about asking Joe what he was doing, but if it wasn't actually weird then that would definitely make it weird. And then David came back, three drinks gripped in the triangle of his hands. There was no way Nick was giving up his place beside Joe now, so he decided firmly that it wasn't that weird and put his arm around Joe's waist. Which it turned out was the right decision after all because Joe was looking at Nick, just Nick, like he hadn't even noticed David was back, like there weren't lights flashing all around them and music pounding so hard they could barely hear each other over them. Even when David said, "Jonas! Hot blonde at two o'clock. I need my Ice Man, dude," Joe just kept staring at Nick with his eyes all glassy and dazed like he was half asleep.  
  
Nick smirked at David. He was definitely counting this as a win.  
  
*  
  
They got home late, too late, about three hours before their call time late. Which normally meant Nick would just blow off sleeping all together and try to catch up tomorrow. But being off the road for so long had made him kind of soft. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Joe stripped off his dirty shirt and slid into Nick's bed behind him like there was never even a question of him using his own bed. Nick smiled. He turned around so he was facing Joe and whispered, "You're not mad at me anymore." It wasn't really a question, except it was a little bit.  
  
"I was never mad at you," Joe said.   
  
Nick's jaw clenched tight. "Right." He turned over again with his back to Joe.  
  
"I wasn't," Joe said. "I just thought I needed to give you some space." He roughed his hand through Nick's curls. "I thought that was what you wanted."  
  
Nick shook his head no.  
  
Joe scooted up behind him and draped his arm over Nick's waist. He pulled Nick backwards until Nick was pressed all the way against Joe's warm chest, with Joe's chin snuggled in the crook of his shoulder, and Joe's hand stroking at Nick's belly right underneath the hem of his shirt. "Is this okay?" Joe said, his voice rough in Nick's ear, hoarse from shouting all night over the music. "Is this- What you want?"  
  
Nick nodded sleepily. Joe pressed his lips to the back of Nick's neck as he drifted off.   
  
*  
  
Lunch with David and Joe was basically like joining a really bad debate club where instead of talking about immigration laws or gun control they mostly talked about bowties versus skinny ties or motorcycles versus wave runners. Nick was actually kind of looking forward to getting called back to the set, which basically never happened, but he was seriously _so_ bored. They'd finally moved on from the great blondes versus brunettes debate, thank the Lord. Nick didn't really understand how that discussion had continued as long as it had considering all three of them had voted for brunette. But then Joe had to go adding redheads and girls with purple hair into the mix, and Nick was finished with his sandwich by the time they finally exhausted that topic. Now they were in the middle of a pretty heated Chris Farley versus Will Ferrell debate, which seemed to mostly consist of re-enacting scenes from _Anchorman_ and _Tommy Boy_. Nick was pretty sure neither of them would notice if he left. Nick snagged a carrot off Joe's plate, took a bite, and then remembered why he didn't like carrots.  
  
"Get your own," Joe said, elbowing Nick away. But he spun his plate around so the mini-pizzas were on Nick's side. Nick tried to snag one, their fingers tangling on the table. Nick grinned as he snuck past Joe's hand and grabbed two. He popped them both in his mouth together, one eyebrow raised in Joe's direction. Joe elbowed him again, hard enough to scoot him a little away. He scooted back, pinching Joe at the bottom of his ribcage.   
  
David was looking at them with his eyebrows drawn down a little. Nick smiled his smuggest smile. David cocked his head, blinked. "So, Nick," David said. "How do you like trading in the arena stage for a sound stage?"  
  
Nick froze with his mouth full. He started chewing again slowly to buy some time. There were just a lot of things he could say to that. And most of them would probably make him sound like a dick. And some of them would probably make Joe mad or sad or something, which Nick really, really didn't want to do. Especially not with Mr. Let Me Teach You About Acting Because I am Such a Wonderful Actor Who Knows Everything sitting right there, smirking.   
  
"Hates it," Joe said, cutting a glance in Nick's direction.  
  
Nick forced a laugh. "I kind of hate it," he agreed. "It's cool to see Joe do his thing though. He's really great."  
  
Joe ducked his head, shooting a longer look at Nick. Nick nodded at him, and Joe smiled sweet and small, his cheeks flushing. He bumped Nick's knee with his own under the table. 

*

So apparently when David and Joe said they wanted to go surfing what they actually meant was they were going to hit on girls in bikinis. Nick dug his toes into the sand, sweating, the top of his head heated up too hot with sun. He wished he'd brought his guitar, but he hadn't wanted to get sand in it. And he'd kind of thought they were actually going to be surfing. How silly of him.  
  
Joe flopped down on the towel next to him. "Check it out." He held out his hands, palm out so Nick could see the telephone numbers scrawled across his skin. Nick grabbed his right hand. "You have like three numbers on this hand," he pointed out.  
  
"I know," Joe grinned. "I'm basically a pimp." David laughed, and they slapped their hands together. David had some numbers written on his too, curling along underneath his fingers.  
  
"Didn't they care that you already had some other girl's number right there?" Nick squinted disapprovingly at the ink on Joe's skin. He traced over one of the numbers with his thumb. Joe's fingers twisted around, pushed up to thread through Nick's, turning Nick's hand until they were palm to palm. His hand was hot and a little sandy.   
  
"That's how much game we got, Little Jonas." David clapped Nick on the shoulder. Nick glared, watched him flex his arms like a bodybuilder, his tattoo popping dark on his tan skin. Nick let go of Joe's hand, looked down at his toes digging into the sand.   
  
"Are we actually going to surf at some point?" Nick said, irritable. "Or are we just going to keep wasting time?"  
  
"Keep your shirt on," David said. "Oh, wait-" He smirked at the white shirt Nick hadn't taken off. Nick crossed his arms over his chest, his ears burning hot. Whatever. So what if he looked dumb or he was getting a really awful farmer's tan. There was no way he was taking his shirt off on a public beach, even if it was the sort of private kind of public. There were still way, way too many people around. Next thing you knew he would be all over the Internet, or featured in some "Worst Beach Bodies" article or something. No thanks.   
  
David rolled his eyes. "I'll go get you guys some boards. You coming, Joe?"  
  
Joe looked down at his arms critically, his triceps flexing as he stretched them out in front of him. "I better put on some sunscreen before we hit the water." David slapped Joe double-handed on his back and pulled himself up off his towel.   
  
Nick shielded his eyes from the sun, watched Joe smear sunscreen on his arms, over his chest, the lotion matting down the dark hair there. Nick chafed his hand absently against his own chest, baby smooth under his shirt. That out of place tag-along feeling swelled up a little bit. Joe put three war paint stripes on his cheek and grinned at Nick. "That'd be a kickass tan line," he said.  
  
"Yeah, because the make-up people would literally kick your ass," Nick said. Joe rubbed the bright white lines into his skin until they disappeared. "I can do your back," Nick offered.  
  
Joe rolled over onto his stomach on the towel, tossing the bottle at Nick. Nick knelt down beside him and squirted lotion out onto Joe's back, the bottle making a loud farty sound. Joe giggled into his folded arms. He turned his head to look over at Nick. Nick tried to be stern and disapproving, but the grin wiggled out. He felt better. Less like Joe was older than him. He smoothed his hands through the lotion, spreading it. Joe's skin was hot, a little sweaty slick, the lotion warming up fast under Nick's fingers. He watched his hands slide, the white streaks fading into Joe's skin. Joe made a happy sound in the back of his throat, his hips snuggling into his towel. Nick kept rubbing even after the white was all eaten up by Joe's tan. Nick swiped up the back of Joe's neck, smoothed out his hands over Joe's shoulders, slid one final time right down the center of Joe's spine all the way to the waistband of his shorts. Joe made another soft, happy sound. Nick rubbed the rest of the slick that stuck to his hands into his own arms.   
  
Joe was looking at him, like- Nick didn't even know what, but it made his skin feel prickly, hot, hotter than the sun beating down on the back of his neck. He worried his lower lip between his teeth uncertainly. He could see Joe watching that too. Joe's tongue flicked out over his own lip. He reached over and cupped his hand around Nick's knee, his fingers stroking the inside of Nick's leg. Nick looked down at Joe's fingers digging into the crease where Nick's leg was bent. A little of the prickly skin heat sunk deeper, inside, started to coil in his belly. Joe shifted around on his towel like he was trying to get comfortable, his hips shoving down.   
  
"You guys ready to go?" David bounced up, surfboards tucked up under his arms.   
  
Joe squeezed his hand around Nick's knee rough and let go. He glanced down at himself, and then tucked his chin onto his bent arms. He squinted up at David. "I think I'm okay here."  
  
David snorted, nudging Joe with his toe. "You're not flaking out on me, dude. I came all this way to see you fall off a surfboard."  
  
"Seriously," Nick agreed. He hadn't come here just to surf. He'd come to surf with _Joe_. "You can sleep later."   
  
Joe laughed easily into his arms. "I'll catch up with you guys in a little while."   
  
"What the hell are you-" David started. Joe wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully, a lazy half smile on his face. He lifted himself up a little, his eyes flicking down toward his hard-on. Oh.   
  
"Oh!" David said, laughing. Nick could feel himself blushing. He hoped he was already too red from the heat for it to show. David turned to Nick. "What about you?" He grinned. "Are you, um- _Coming_ with me?"  
  
Joe cracked up.  
  
"Or are you afraid I'll make you look bad out there?" David teased.  
  
Nick clenched his teeth, his face setting hard. He held out his hand for the board David extended.  
  
*  
  
Surfing was harder than Nick had thought it would be. It turned out boogie boarding was so not the same thing. He couldn't seem to get his feet under him, falling off his surfboard more than he stayed on. He wouldn't have minded so much if it didn't seem like every time the water closed rough and cold over his head, he got a glimpse of David zooming past him. Whatever, he was getting better at it. He stubbornly paddled out again. He was pretty sure he could be good if he spent a little time, really worked on his balance, got used to the feel of the water underneath his board. He sat up, his feet dangling over the sides of his board, his shirt clinging cold and wet to his chest. He waited for the next wave, listening to the faint sounds of voices carrying out from the beach, to the steady rush of the ocean. He let a pretty nice wave go by, rising up over it on his board, just sitting for a while, catching his breath. He squinted at the beach, tried to spot Joe's purple towel.  
  
David paddled up next to him. They bobbed next to each other in the water, letting a couple small ones pass under them.   
  
"What's your problem with me anyway?" David said out of nowhere.  
  
Nick thought about saying he didn't have a problem. That was the polite thing that he should probably say. He shrugged instead, his shoulders stiff.   
  
"Because I don't have a problem with you," David said.  
  
Nick snorted. Of course David didn't have a problem. He was the one taking everything, butting in where he wasn't needed. And besides, he _did_ have a problem. He'd had a problem for like, a year. Just pretending like he was some poor victim, like Nick was the only one who was making it hard, didn't make him the good guy. Nick gritted his teeth.   
  
"I mean, if we're going to be hanging out together…" David trailed off. "You could at least try to be friendly."  
  
"I'm friendly," Nick said.   
  
David gave him a skeptical look.  
  
"Anyway, I'm perfectly civil," Nick said coldly. David laughed. Nick looked behind him for a wave. Where the heck were all the waves?  
  
"The thing is," David leaned over conspiratorially. "I'm not going away just because you don't like me."  
  
Nick turned to look at David, smiled a tight-lipped smile. "We'll be out of here in a few weeks anyway." His smile turned up a little more, and he could feel it getting self-satisfied, obnoxious. He didn't try to stop it. "This is just-" He shrugged. "Like a contractually obligated vacation Disney made us take." He motioned the entire past few months away with his hand. "This isn't- It doesn't _matter_."  
  
David shook his head, a disbelieving smile on his face. "I know you're just a kid and everything. But you're really kind of a dick." Nick laughed, hard, bitter. David's jaw jumped angrily. It made Nick feel like he'd just scored a three pointer. David drummed his hands against the board in front of him, his legs moving a little in the water. Nick hoped a shark ate them. "Why don't you just let Joe have his _own_ life for once?" David muttered.  
  
Nick's jaw ground down so hard he could hear his teeth screech, the triumphant swell inside him collapsing under sudden heated panic that thundered in his blood, tightened up his throat. "That's-" Not okay. Not allowed. Not- Not- True. "That's not fair." It came out weak, barely loud enough to hear.   
  
He couldn't tell if David hadn’t heard or if he was just ignoring him, but David didn't answer. He popped up on his board, his legs dripping, tensing, his body curved to take the wave as it rushed up behind them. "See you on the beach, Junior," he called as he swept graceful over the water.  
  
*  
  
Nick didn't even try to surf back in. He felt too shaky to get the timing, the balance right, and being knocked down right now just didn't- He couldn't deal with it. He paddled in toward the beach instead, the sun beating down on his back, every stroke of his arms making him madder. He thought about David's stupid smirk, about his stupid tattoo, and his stupid sunglasses that made his nose look gigantic until he was barely thinking at all about Joe running off to have his own grown up life by himself, about whether it made Nick a bad person if he didn't want Joe to have- No. He was thinking about David's stupid car and how annoying it was that he always called the backseat "the rumble seat."  
  
By the time Nick got back to the beach, he was wound up so tight with rage he felt like he was two seconds away from stamping his feet in the sand and yelling until he lost his voice. Joe was doing handstands, showing off for a bunch of girls. David had hold of his ankles, and they were laughing, putting on a big show. Nick threw his surfboard down in the sand beside them, and crossed his arms over his chest. Joe looked at him upside down.  
  
"Nick!" he said. He kicked his feet out of David's hands and pulled himself upright. He moved in like he was going for a hug, then hesitated when he saw Nick's face. "What happened?"  
  
Nick glanced at David. David was watching him carefully, a neutral look on his face. The girls were all leaning in, interested, and Nick could see one of them had a phone in her hand. He let out a slow breath, and forced a smile. He draped his arm over Joe's shoulder, his hand curling a little into Joe's skin. He let out another breath, calmer, and felt his smile get less forced. "Just fell off one too many times," he said. He even managed to squeeze out a laugh. _There's your fucking acting._ He bared his teeth at David, hoped it looked like smiling.  
  
Joe laughed a little uncertainly, meeting Nick's eyes when he turned away from David. He tilted his forehead down in question. Nick lifted his chin and breathed out again slow. His heart wasn't trip-hammering so hard. His anger was only throbbing a little against his temples. He was okay. He tapped his thumb against Joe's collarbone and nodded. Joe smiled, turned to the girls. "So this is my little brother. And this is-" His eyes squinted shut thoughtfully like he was taking a pop quiz. "Bianca, Theresa, Sarah, and…" He got a confirmation nod from each girl as he went down the line. "Kelly." Kelly giggled. Sarah was giving Nick a look like she knew who he was. It made him nervous.   
  
"You should get rinsed off," Joe said to Nick. "You're all salty." He swiped a finger down Nick's arm, over the fat drops dripping from his shirt sleeve, over the light crust of drying salt on his elbow. He tugged Nick's index finger up into his mouth, his face twisted up all silly as he sucked the salt from it with his lips, his soft tongue dragging when Nick pulled his finger out. The girls laughed. Nick pushed him away, shaking his head, smiling. Joe pulled at Nick's wet shirt, the material letting go of Nick's skin reluctantly with a deep sucking sound, and then slapping back against his chest clingy and wet. Nick flinched. Joe patted against the center of his chest soothingly, his palm warm on top of the cold chill of Nick's shirt.   
  
"We're gonna tag along with them to this new club," David said.   
  
Nick's jaw clenched as he thought about pretending not to be pissed off for hours. As he thought about trying to be nice to a bunch of girls he didn't know. For hours. Watching Joe and David flirt. Watching a bunch of people drinking and dancing and yelling over too loud music. It sounded like the worst thing he could think of. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted Joe to come home with him.  
  
Joe turned to him when he didn't answer right away. "Actually," Nick said, keeping his voice low. "I don't feel so great." He leaned into Joe.   
  
Joe's hands were immediately on his back, tracing over his skin, touching his Omnipod. "When was the last time you checked your levels?" he said. Nick felt a little bad about the worry in Joe's voice, about the way he dove for Nick's kit, fumbled with it, fear stiffening his fingers.   
  
Nick didn't feel bad at all about the fact that Joe made David take them right home, that he didn't leave with David even after Nick was home safe. Nick stared at David, locking eyes with him as he passed Joe his iPod through the window. Nick raised an eyebrow. David's jaw clenched. Joe stroked Nick's hair, his fingers brushing light against Nick's cheek, his arm wrapped around Nick's waist as they walked up the driveway.  
  
Nick didn't feel bad at all.  
  
*  
  
Nick looked blearily into his mom's face as she shook him awake. "Time is it?" he mumbled. He squinted his eyes shut when she flicked his bedside lamp on.  
  
"Time to go," she said. "You've got about ten minutes to get your brother up, get dressed, and get downstairs."  
  
"Okay," Nick said, burying his face in his pillow and shutting his eyes. She bounced down on his shoulder, jolting his eyes back open.   
  
"Gotta get up, Nick."   
  
"I'm up," he grunted. She ruffled his hair gently and flashed the lights on and off a couple times on her way out.  
  
Nick nudged Joe with his elbow, which of course did nothing. He shoved Joe harder, and Joe murmured. He snuggled deeper into the mattress, his mouth open into his pillow. Nick's pillow. Nick frowned at the wet spot he was leaving on Nick's pillowcase. Nick heaved himself up and leaned with his full weight on Joe's shoulder blades, bouncing him into the bed until he tried to reach behind himself with a clumsy, flaily fist.   
  
Joe turned over, and Nick flopped onto his back, scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands, dreading going back on set. Joe was making these weird little noises. Nick looked over. Joe had the covers kicked back, and his boxers tucked down under his dick, and he was stroking it. Right there.   
  
"What-" Nick choked out.  
  
"We have to be downstairs in like five minutes," Joe said like this was something they did. And okay, sometimes when you were trapped with your brothers on a bus or you shared a hotel room with them for months at a time you heard stuff. Even saw a little. But this was kind of- A lot. Nick stared at the head of Joe's cock poking up through the circle of his fist, red and wet looking, disappearing and then poking up again. Joe twisted his hand, his forearm flexing. "You can too if you want," Joe said. "I don't mind." He panted, the words tightening up at the end. "You seriously need to relax," he added.   
  
"What do you mean I need to relax?" Nick said. The stab of annoyance felt familiar, normal enough to sweep away a little of his shock.  
  
"You're always so pissed off on set."   
  
"Not always," Nick said.   
  
"You've been pissed for like-" Joe glanced over at Nick through half-lidded eyes, his hand still jacking lazily at his dick. "-two months straight."  
  
Nick thought about just not answering or like getting up and _leaving_ or something because seriously. Did Joe really expect him to have this conversation while Joe was beating off right in front of him? But Joe looked at him like this wasn't a joke, like this was a real conversation he wanted to have. And Joe had spent all night getting Nick juice and making him little snacks, going out of his way to make Nick laugh, letting him try out a bunch of new things he was working on with this one song. Joe had spent all night worrying about Nick's blood sugar that wasn't even low, that Nick had lied about. Joe had spent all night taking care of him. The least he could do was not blow Joe off, even if he had his _dick out_. Even if Nick's dick was starting to ache, hard and wanting in his shorts. He chafed at it absently with the heel of his hand. The least Nick could do was be honest.  
  
"I don't like not being good at stuff," Nick said under his breath.  
  
"Dude, you're so-" Joe shook his head, his hand stilling on his dick. Why couldn’t Nick stop staring at it? At how thick and red it was? At the fat white drop pricking up wet right on the top of the head? Nick blinked, forced his eyes to Joe's face. "You're not a bad actor. Why do you even think that?"   
  
"Because I have eyes," Nick grumbled. "And ears. And a working brain."  
  
"I don't know about the last one," Joe said. His hand started moving again. Nick frowned, rubbing absently at himself over the covers. "I mean, if your brain worked right maybe it would've come with an off switch. So you could give yourself a break." Joe panted, his back arching up off the bed.   
  
"You know I- I can't," Nick said helplessly, his breath catching like an echo. He rubbed at himself a little harder, the heel of his hand feeling like not enough. "Anyway," he grunted out. "You don't know. You're good at it. You _like_ it."   
  
Joe's eyes were half-closed, a thick flush under his early morning stubble. He stared at Nick's mouth like he could see the words coming out of it. It made the back of Nick's neck prickle, made him want to grab onto his dick. "I like a lot of things," Joe said.   
  
Nick chewed on his bottom lip. Joe's mouth fell open, his whole face kind of slack with want. "Do you like it more than music?" Nick said quietly, not sure he wanted to know the answer. He couldn't imagine Joe lying to him. Not when his face looked like that, completely open all the way. Nick circled his hand around his dick over the covers. Joe's hand slowed down a little.   
  
"I like them both," Joe whispered.  
  
"But you have to like one more," Nick said. He jerked himself a little harder through the sheets, angry.   
  
Joe shook his head no.  
  
Nick gave up with a whimper and ducked his hand under the covers, under his shorts, grabbing himself. He kept the covers tucked around his waist, his hand moving under them. That way he had at least a little bit of privacy. Joe looked at the lump Nick's fist made under the sheets, at the way it shifted. He huffed out a hard breath, his hips jerking into the circle of his fist. Nick stared at Joe's fist, matching the slide of his own to the hard rhythm Joe was setting. Then he sped up a little faster, trying to catch up with Joe's head start, pushing himself.   
  
Joe's eyes squeezed shut when a soft sound slipped out past the tight silence Nick was trying to keep. Nick watched Joe's hand move. The sounds it made were kind of loud, sloppy wet. Joe let out little grunts and whimpers, not caring if Nick heard them. Then Joe grabbed onto his dick hard like he was holding himself back. He was looking at Nick's hand, at Nick's face. Waiting. "Come on," he said to Nick like he was urging him around home plate or something. He kept his hand tight around his dick, his voice strained in his throat.   
  
Nick couldn't stop the whine he made as he felt himself start to slip over, everything in him tightening up so hot and almost, almost- There. It only took Joe's hand a couple short strokes before his hips were lifting off the bed, his mouth fallen open, his eyes on Nick while his come spurted thick up onto his belly. Nick's toes curled, his head thrown back, eyes squeezing shut as he shot off into his shorts.   
  
Nick panted, trying to catch his breath. All the tightness in his body let go, his muscles turning limp, heavy. He sagged into the mattress, wrung out like he'd just run a fourteen mile marathon. But good too, like he'd won the race. He felt really good. So good, he was a little scared to open his eyes, to look at Joe. It had to be weird, didn't it? To look at Joe now and know exactly what his face looked like when he came. To think about Joe watching him while he- But when he did open his eyes, Joe just smiled at him lazily. "Good morning," he said, wiping his hand on his shorts.  
  
"Morning," Nick said, his brow wrinkling up a little. Joe kept smiling at him wide, pleased, until Nick started to smile back. He just felt really good, kind of lighter like he'd shrugged off a heavy backpack, kind of satisfied like if this was all his life ever was, it would be enough. To just lie here. Just relaxed.  
  
"Get a move on!" their mom yelled.  
  
Nick started guiltily. He pushed back his covers, moving slow. His boxers clung wet, uncomfortable as he swung his legs down over the side of the bed. "Nick." Joe touched his back, and Nick froze, tensing up, bracing himself for it to get weird. "You're a good actor," Joe said earnestly. "I'm not just saying that."  
  
Nick laughed, relieved.   
  
Joe smiled at him. "Do you believe me?"  
  
Nick's lips twisted up doubtfully, but Joe kept looking at him, sweaty and smiling and sincere. Nick felt his ears start to get red, the back of his neck flushing hot. It wasn't that he believed Joe, not all the way. But maybe just a little. "Yeah," he said finally. When Joe pushed at his face rough, his hand was still a little wet, sticky. Nick could feel it on his face as he walked down the hall to the bathroom. He tilted his head in the mirror, touched his cheek.  
  
Nick hummed to himself in the shower. He thought today might be a good day.  
  
*  
  
Nick fought not to ruin another take, to keep from breaking character, the trapped smile making his lips tremble with the effort of not letting it out. He managed to hold it in for another long second before his lips were too weak. Joe watched the grin burst wide over Nick's face. He immediately stopped prancing around in his ring master outfit, raising his arms in triumph.  
  
"He's doing it on purpose," Nick complained to Kevin.  
  
"That's like five times today," Joe said, slinging his arm over Nick's shoulder. "I'm definitely winning."  
  
Nick frowned. "Yeah, like five out of forty-eight takes or something. I'm still winning."  
  
"It's not a contest." Kevin rolled his eyes. "But if it were, I'd definitely be winning since I've only cracked once." He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked.  
  
Nick shrugged. "Yeah. Okay. You're winning." Kevin's eyes bugged open in shock. "For now," Nick corrected.   
  
Kevin settled back on his heels. "You scared me for a second there."   
  
Joe's fingers scratched lightly at the back of Nick's neck, pulling at his curls. "You're doing awesome today," he said. He looked at Kevin for confirmation.  
  
Kevin nodded. "Really funny," he agreed.  
  
Nick snorted. "You guys are so full of it."  
  
The assistant director brushed by them, talking briskly into his head seat. He paused to clap Nick on the shoulder. "Great work out there."   
  
Nick stared. "I keep blowing takes," he said blankly.  
  
The A.D. waved that aside. "Everyone blows a few takes." He gave Nick's shoulder a squeeze. "Just keep doing what you're doing. Looks natural. Great on camera." Nick felt a little smile push its way onto his lips. The A.D. rushed off again, his voice rising impatient and sharp into his headset as he asked where his balloons were.  
  
"Did you pay him?" Nick said to Joe suspiciously.  
  
Joe rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I passed him a twenty. Come on, dude, I _told_ you!"  
  
Kevin shook Nick by the nape of the neck. Nick grinned. "I'll let you guys shine my Emmy if you want," he said. Kevin snorted, pushing Nick's head down hard. Joe flicked him on the ear.   
  
He couldn't stop grinning.  
  
*  
  
Nick's great mood lasted right up until he ran into David and Joe hanging around on the set, bouncing a tennis ball off the wall, back and forth between them, talking about some obscure Canadian sitcom Nick had never heard of. Nick felt tension crawl up his spine, his whole body clenching. When Joe reached and grabbed David by the elbow, David bending Joe over into a headlock, the two of them grinning, it was kind of funny how Nick thought about the face Joe'd made when he came that morning. He felt the back of his neck burn, flush creeping up his cheeks. So embarrassing. But it also made him feel- Better. Like he knew something about Joe that David would never know. That was _his_. He didn't have to share that bit of Joe with David or anyone.  
  
"David and I are going to this independent film thing after work," Joe was saying. "One of his friends is in it. You wanna come?" David stared at Nick with his arm draped over Joe's shoulder.  
  
It wasn't like Nick could say no.  
  
*  
  
So apparently when David and Joe said they were going to go watch some independent film screening, they meant they were going to watch some independent film. Some really, incredibly boring independent film about stupid people who whined a lot about their lives for two hours. And also there was like, some ceramic bowl or something? And sometimes the film ran backwards for a little while? And it was symbolic? Or something. Whatever. The only way Nick stayed awake was by pinching himself on the inside of his wrist until his eyes watered. Joe didn't even lean over and whisper funny comments about the stupid parts (which were like _all the parts_ ). He leaned over and whispered comments to David instead about like, _craft_ and _method_ and the girl's boobs when she showed them.   
  
Nick made up songs in his head, and tried not to hum them out loud, and just tried to stay awake until it was finally, finally over.   
  
*  
  
Nick dozed a little in the backseat of David's car, not listening to Joe and David talk about which of them was Brad Pitt and which was George Clooney in _Ocean's Eleven_ , thinking about the scene he had to shoot for tomorrow, and reminding himself not to forget the good parts of the song he'd half written at the theater, and trying to remember which was the seventh dwarf. He had Grumpy, Sneezy, Doc, Sleepy, Dopey, and Happy-   
  
"Yeah," Joe was saying. "I want to. It's just scheduling."  
  
"We can knock the whole thing out in a week," David said.   
  
"It's just we have the album coming up," Joe said. "And publicity for the movie. The tour." Nick sat up, really listening now.  
  
"You don't wrap on the show for what like-"  
  
"Three and a half weeks," Joe said.  
  
"So, we'll do it before then," David said. "If you take the James part instead of the Henry part, we can wrap all your stuff in like three days. Just take all our off time, and-"  
  
Joe smacked his head back against his seat rest. "I want Henry though," he said. "That part- Shit." He leaned his head against the window, his forehead bumping lightly against the glass. "Shit," he said softer. He turned around in his seat, and Nick shut his eyes quickly, tried to look like he was asleep, tried to look like he wasn't listening, like his heart hadn't sped up so fast he thought maybe he'd hyperventilate. "I don't know," Joe said, his voice lowering. "Maybe I can get a week to myself before we start the publicity thing."   
  
"You gotta," David said. "They can't decide everything for you. They have to let you out of that little box they keep you in sometimes."  
  
Joe laughed, it came out a little jagged. "It's a pretty nice box."   
  
Nick flinched. He couldn't hear any more. He sat up, blinking slowly like he was just waking up. David glanced at him in the rearview. "Hey, bud. Almost home." Like Nick was a five year old. Nick scowled. He looked out the window, and reminded himself that his albums had gone platinum all over that world, that he had a hundred people on his payroll, that he was richer than David would ever be. He looked at the back of Joe's head and wanted to cry. Like a goddamn five year old. Joe reached up over the top of his seat, his palm stretched out toward Nick. Nick slid his hand against Joe's until his bent fingers caught on Joe's, pulling. He curled his fingers in against Joe's palm, curled Joe's fingers up in his hand, not letting go. Joe curled his hand too, warm around the outside of Nick's.  
  
*  
  
"You're really quiet," Joe said, slipping under the covers next to Nick. His hair was still wet from the shower, curling at the back of his neck. He pulled off his glasses and put them on the end table.  
  
"Tired I guess," Nick said. He looked over at Joe's back, the way it curved away from him. He reached over and scratched his blunt fingernails gently over Joe's tank top. Joe made a pleased sound so Nick did it again. He traced circles and triangles, squiggly lines, across Joe's back, listening to the slow drag of Joe's breathing. He spelled out an N with his thumb, and then an I and a C and a K.   
  
"I love you," he said, a little hesitant, like a question. He moved over on the bed, pressed himself as close as he could to Joe's back. He tucked his arm around Joe's body, his elbow bent, his palm pressed to the center of Joe's chest.   
  
"Love you too," Joe said automatically, like a thousand times before. He laced his fingers through Nick's fingers and squeezed their hands together, his palm warm over the back of Nick's hand. "Night, Nick."   
  
Nick buried his face in Joe's neck. He could feel himself shaking a little bit, trembling with the effort of just not- Not yelling or crying or squeezing Joe, just squeezing him hard, hard, hard enough to push him all the way underneath Nick's skin where he could never, ever get out. "I love you," Nick said again, fierce and a little angry, his hand tightening to a fist in Joe's shirt.   
  
"Nick?" Joe said. He tried to crane his head back, his eyes squinted to bring Nick's face into focus. He tried to scoot around out of Nick's arms so he could see him better.  
  
Nick bit down on his neck, hard and vicious. Joe stilled, exhaled a small, harsh noise of pain, surprise. Nick buried his face back in Joe's neck, his nose smushed and his eyes shut tight. "I love you," he said, his voice muffled with Joe's skin. He thought maybe he was crying a little, choking on it a little, hating that he couldn't just stop. Stop. That he was acting like such a baby. He sucked in a shaky breath, fighting for control.   
  
"Nick," Joe's voice cracked. "What's _wrong_?" He tried to turn around again, Nick's arms too tight around him. "Let me see-" Nick shook his head, his forehead sliding against Joe's wet neck. "Tell me what to do," he said helplessly. "Tell me what you need."  
  
"Just-" Nick mumbled. "Don't leave- You _can't_."  
  
"I'm _not_." Joe pried Nick's arms loose so he could turn around. His face was close, really close in the dark. Nick tilted his head down, didn't look at him. He shoved the top of his head into Joe's shoulder, embarrassed. "I'm right here," Joe said. He pet his hand through Nick's curls until Nick finally looked up, calmer now, but his hand was still tight in Joe's shirt, his knuckles aching with how hard he was holding on. "I'm here," Joe said. He pressed his lips gently to Nick's, soft and wet, sucking on Nick's mouth. Nick closed his eyes, leaned into Joe, let Joe kiss him slow, slow. It helped so much, that wild panic fading to a heavy heat that curled and curled inside him. He didn't notice it was weird until Joe's tongue was pressing past his open lips, licking into him.  
  
He jerked back, blinking in the dark. "What- We're not-" he said. Joe rolled onto him, his weight pinning Nick down like he thought maybe Nick was going to get away.   
  
"I'm just going to make you feel better," Joe said like it was simple. He touched Nick's lip with his thumb gently, his hand cupping Nick's face, fingers sliding into Nick's hair. Nick watched his eyes glittering in the dark, the way he looked at Nick like Nick was the only thing that even existed. He kissed Nick again, harder this time, his teeth scraping, his tongue thick in Nick's mouth. And it felt so good to have Joe that close pressing against him heavy, to have Joe warm and wet inside his mouth. _His._ To feel Joe grind hard against him. That was for _him_. Nick whimpered in the back of his throat, his hips thrusting up against Joe in answer.   
  
Joe groaned, grinding harder against Nick. His dick slid fat against Nick's belly. His hip ground into Nick, and Nick hissed, wanting. Joe's mouth was still moving over Nick's sloppier now, pulling at Nick's lip with his teeth, pressing deep into Nick's mouth. Nick's lips felt puffy, swollen. He panted into Joe's mouth, his hand fisted in Joe's shirt, catching his skin where it was riding up on his back. Joe pulled away, and Nick touched his own lips with his fingers. His hips thrust helplessly into the air. Joe slid down his body, tugging at Nick's boxers, tugging until Nick's cock sprang free, hard and straining. "Joe," Nick said, feeling a little rush of embarrassment. "That's not-"  
  
Joe just grinned at him, the kind of grin he'd had on his face right before that time he'd jumped off the roof and broken his wrist. Joe licked his hand, spit into it, loud and gross. Nick wrinkled up his nose, more unsure about this all the time. Then he grabbed Nick's cock in his hand, and Nick's head tipped back, his hips jerking up into Joe's hand. Joe jacked him slippery and slow, too slow. Nick's hips jerked again, again, trying to get more. He bit down on his lip to keep the choked off sounds he was making in his throat, keep them from coming out of his mouth.   
  
"Hold on," Joe said, pressing down on Nick's hip, keeping him from thrusting up into Joe's hand. Nick whimpered a protest. But then Joe's mouth was on him, all around him, so hot and so wet, slick, good. So- "Oh." Nick arched off the bed, driving into Joe's mouth. Joe made a choked throat noise as Nick went too deep. His teeth grazed hard against Nick's dick, and Nick winced, jerking back again. Joe pulled off to catch his breath, his hand sliding around Nick's dick, so lazy slow Nick made a desperate high sound. Joe grinned at him, and Nick blushed. Nick watched him sink down onto Nick's dick again, his tongue leaving wet stripes, his mouth settling in to suck. He was looking up at Nick, his mouth full of Nick and his eyes full of Nick and his hips grinding down into the mattress.   
  
"I- I'm gonna-" Nick said, sharp need winding tight, edging him so close. "Joe." Joe pulled off, his tongue dragging with a satisfied slurp. He sat back on his heels and watched pleased, proud as Nick's eyes squinched shut, his whole face tightening up with his body. He grunted hard as he came, his back arching. When he opened his eyes again, Joe had his dick out. He slid his hand through Nick's come where it glistened in Nick's pubes, against his pale hip. He jacked himself with it, flopping down on the bed next to Nick.   
  
"Feel better?" he said.  
  
"Ungh." Nick blinked slowly, tongue heavy in his mouth, brain sputtered to a halt. Joe laughed, rolled him over onto his side. Nick went unresisting, his body loose, slow. Joe's hands pushed at his legs, and Nick made a slight effort to look behind him, but it just didn't seem worth it. Joe curled up behind him, his hard dick pushing between Nick's legs. His lips pressed against the back of Nick's neck, mouthing wet, sucking a little. His hips shoved forward, jostled against Nick's butt. His hand on Nick's belly kept him from scooting forward. Nick grunted, Joe's fingers pressing into his skin. Joe's dick sliding between his legs, just underneath his ass. Joe made little noises behind him, and Nick memorized them all. The way Joe's hands felt, the sweaty slide of his chest against Nick's back, the soft scrape of his stubble. Nick let out a sigh, his eyes drifting shut a little, his hand closing over Joe's hand on his belly. Joe came with a low groan, his come spattering against Nick's thighs. Joe nosed at Nick's hair for a long moment. He reached between Nick's legs with his fingers, touched the mess there. He made a pained noise. When Nick turned over onto his back, Joe was staring at his slick hand, at Nick's legs glistening wet.   
  
"Mine," he said, leaning close to press his lips to Nick's, fierce and wanting.   
  
It felt like a win.  
  
end


End file.
